Surrender
by SkullFaerie
Summary: As he held her close, Alto felt himself surrender. Surrendering himself to the inevitable, the consequences of loving death's woman, the tears and heartache that would come someday, the pain and everything. One-shot, round-robin


**Introduction**: This is a one-shot round-robin fanfiction collaboratively written by arcangelus, forgottendiary, and steshin with the theme "Surrender" inspired by this image: i22. photobucket. com/ albums/ b301/ steshin/ 1548470m.jpg (cut and paste to your browser without the spaces). It takes place somewhere after episode 22 (Northern Cross) so some spoilers may be present.

**Surrender**

It was dusk. He sat on the veranda of his ancestral home, contemplating.

Everything had gone wrong. For him, his friends, his family. He surrendered everything for the love of the sky, but it seemed only like a one sided relationship.

In his unawareness, two pale slender arms snaked from behind... and around his waist.

Her hot, sweet breath brushed his neck.

"Alto," came the soft and familiar voice. "I heard about it...about the Quarter."

He closed his eyes and merely nodded.

Her arms tightened around him as she breathed in his scent.

"It could be a big war," Alto finally spoke, however raspy.

"I know," she returned, resting her chin on the crook of his shoulder.

Faint sounds accompanying yet another artificial evening filled the gaps of their silence--car horns from a distance, a flock of birds flapping their wings, leaves rasping upon the wind's command, the koi swimming carelessly, and the bamboo fountain monotonously going about its task.

That was when she started humming a song. A song that reminded one of home, of carefree days, of comfort, of faith, of absolution, of love.

Alto slowly craned his head and silently watched her from the corner of his eyes.

"Sheryl," he uttered quietly as he placed his arms over her own.

Slowly, yet carefully, Sheryl undid the buttons of his uniform.

"Alto...' she whispered into his ears..."A..Alto..."

It made him nervous, yet somehow exited. His arms trembled as she removed that cumbersome shirt, revealing his beater.

From behind, he laid wet kisses down his shivering neck, her hands trailing across his chest, up and down his bare arms.

He supressed a moan when her hands, deliberately, or accidentally, scratched over his nipple.

Her touch was featherlight yet scorching. His mind was in a complete haze, his senses heightened with unfamilliar feelings of desire.

Her hands slid inside his beater and he moaned at the direct pressure she applied on his nipple.

His neck arched back.

 "Sheryl..."

Alto's face revealed pleasure that was impossible to hide. He moaned louder as her hand traveled down his body.

"Let me do this for you," her words trailed off as their lips locked in sweet bliss.

Sheryl's hands were busy below Alto, touching and caressing him in all the right places that his body jerked every now and then under her care.

"S...s-heryl, don't stop," he reached out a hand and cupped her face. Gently first, then almost frantic as Sheryl found her way inside his undergarment.

They broke the kiss panting and hearts racing as they hastily breathed in air. Alto shifted his position and pulled Sheryl on top of his crossed legs.

"Tell me," he muttered as he planted kisses along her neck. "Tell me this isn't you saying goodbye."

She pushed him down onto his back, without answering his question. Her kimono was off in a moment, her bare, sweaty skin glistening in the waning sunlight.

Alto gasped at the sight of her above him; her breasts in front of his face, her thighs tight around his waist, her arms on either side of his head.

"What if it is goodbye?" she whispered, her fingers trailing his jaw, brushing away stray hairs.

Her fingers then laced the rim of his shirt, and lifted the annoying garment above his head.

A bitter emotion got caught in his throat, allowing no words to come out.

To hear the word "goodbye" from Sheryl gave him such a hollow feeling inside--hollow and painful.

"Stop...don't say that..." He pleaded, anguished.

Desperately he pulled her closer to him, their bodies pressed together. Her flesh against his. It gave an overwhelming sensation, it was beautiful yet sad--so bittersweet.

Sheryl traced the contours of his face. Her eyes searching into his with longing and sadness.

"It's true what they say," she whispered, "that everything becomes more beautiful when you are doomed..."

Her words gnawed at his insides. Sheryl's illness cannot be cured, it was a harsh and imposing reality. And yet...yet he could not turn away his back from hoping. With each passing day that they spent together, it felt harder and harder for him to accept that her life is being shortened just as much.

Then Ozma's question rang in his mind.

Saotome Alto For what purpose do you have wings!?

"--you okay? Alto..." Sheryl softly nudged him, breaking his stupor.

He wrapped his arms around her as much as he could as he held back the onset of tears.

The answer, his answer, it was there all along.

As he held her close, Alto felt himself surrender. Surrendering himself to the inevitable...the consequences of loving death's woman, the tears and heartache that would come someday...the pain and everything...

But he would never regret it.

#


End file.
